


Bathtub Buddies

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Bugs & Insects, Consensual Non-Consent, Fear Play, Kinky Dean Winchester, Kinky Sam Winchester, M/M, Panic, Phobias, Sadism, Sadist Sam Winchester, tied up Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There is only really one rule to their game.Sam never tells Dean what he’s going to do.That’s what gets Dean off; being helpless and vulnerable in his brother’s hands, and it’s what gets Sam off as well.This time, though, he’s excelled himself.





	Bathtub Buddies

**Author's Note:**

> If you want some additional content alert, or have a phobia of creepy crawlies, please see the end notes before reading (though it does contain spoilers).
> 
> EDIT: if anybody has any scenarios they’d like to see Sam make Dean endure, please leave a comment and I’ll try to oblige.

This is what gives Sam the idea.

He’s just finished packing, Dean taking a post-sleep, pre-drive back to Lebanon shower, when he hears Dean honest-to-Chuck scream.

A second later he’s barrelled through the bathroom door, gun in hand, and Dean….

Dean’s lying on the floor, wrapped in the shower curtain, the shower rail ripped out of the wall.

He’s panting, no blood, not unconscious, so Sam rakes his gaze across the room, looking for the threat.

If there is one (there must be, Dean actually _screamed_ ) Sam can’t see it, and he risks a glance down at his prone brother, who’s tugging irritably at his new outfit.

“Where is it?”

“In the tub,” Dean grates out, and he sounds pissed now, not terrified. “You’re never picking another motel for as long as you live.”

Frowning, Sam inches closer to the tub, gun ready, just in case, and then has to bite back on a chuckle.

He doesn’t want to wake up to find his room stuffed with clown dolls again.

There, at the bottom of the tub, starting a slow crawl up the side, is the fattest, ugliest slug Sam’s ever seen.

It is _huge_.

He looks back at Dean, at the furious red tinge to his brother’s cheeks, and tries to find something supportive to say.

“I guess there’s only one?”

“Only one. Thing’s so fucking big there wasn’t room in there for both of us.”

Now Dean’s just being ridiculous. “It’s not some B-movie radioactive monster, Dean. Just a slug.”

“Just a…. It was on the shower head, Sam. It landed on me. _On me_. Actual physical contact.”

If Dean’s next words are _he slimed me_ , Sam’s going to hog tie him and shove him back in the tub with his new friend.

Instead, Dean finally unwraps himself, and stands up. He glares at the broken shower rail as if somehow it’s personally failed him by not serving as an effective barrier against creepy crawlies.

“Shitty fucking motels,” he mutters, and then he grabs a towel and stalks out of the room.

Sam crouches down, and stares at the slug, making its patient way to the tub rim, unconcerned by his brother’s overly dramatic antics.

It probably, he figures, came up the drain, or maybe through a window, or got tracked in.

Hell, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. What does interest him is the possibility Dean’s reaction has provoked.

It’s sparked his interest, and in the back of his head, a plan is forming.

Sam’s half hard by the time he goes back out to find Dean nearly dressed and still looking like a grumpy brat; fortunately that distracts Dean from noticing something’s turned his brother on big time.

++

Things get a little hectic over the next week, leaving Sam no time at all to think any more on it.

But, after Ketch gets un-cursed, and Cas leaves to clean up the mess the Brit made, they have the bunker to themselves.

Much as Sam loves Cas, and this is the angel’s home as much as it is theirs, he can’t do what he has planned with Cas there.

Dean will scream blue murder, and Cas will not appreciate this is just the kind of game they sometimes play; or that, no matter how much Dean is going to protest, his brother loves being rendered helpless and having his limits pushed.

He never wants to know what Sam has planned, never wants advance warning, trusts Sam to take it where he wants, because he knows Sam will always make it good.

There’s something about being utterly helpless and forced to endure whatever Sam wants that turns Dean on.

There’s something about making Dean helpless, and forcing him to endure whatever he wants to do to his brother that turns Sam on.

Sam sometimes wonders what’s wrong with them, that it’s shit like this that gets them off, but well…. They’re brothers, and they’re fucking, so maybe the time for analysing themselves is way past.

And anyway, Sam isn’t sure he cares.

He’s not ashamed of anything he and Dean do, and he knows Dean isn’t either.

That morning, he puts a small plastic tub in his fanny pack before he starts his morning run.

There’s been some light rain, so he’ll have to watch his step, especially on the trails out back of the bunker, but it’s also perfect weather for what he needs.

So he walks some parts instead of runs; it’s one day of a changed pace, it won’t suddenly mean he’s winded climbing stairs. 

And keeps an eye out for any potential candidates.

He’s lucky; by the time he returns home, a little overdue, and finds Dean giving him that _I-wasn’t-worried-I-was-worried-what-happened_ look, he has just what he was looking for.

This is going to be fucking intense.

++

Dean kind of loves being tied up. 

Sam’s never asked his brother to justify it, to explain, anymore than Dean asks Sam why he likes Dean’s vulnerability, helplessness.

He suspects neither could or would want to answer, and Sam isn’t sure he actually knows what drives the dark little voice in his head that comes up with these things.

But it’s excelled itself with this one.

Dean’s wearing only his denims. He’s lying in the bathtub, in handcuffs, the chain fastened securely around the hook fastened to the wall just above the taps.

It’s secure, and Sam knows it’ll hold; he put it in there himself, so even though Dean is about to struggle like his life depends on it, Sam has no doubt his brother is going to be staying exactly where he is.

He also has a length of rope fastened around Dean’s ankles, over the top of his jeans so he doesn’t have to worry about Dean getting chafed as he fights. The rope’s tied off around the tub feet, because immobility’s a big part of this.

Really, the tub’s the only practical place to do this, and it means Sam won’t have to go looking for the other, uh, participants, later or have to burn their bed sheets because Dean refuses to sleep on them again, no water what wash cycle Sam’s put them through.

Dean eyes his position, low enough in the bath that he’s only half sitting up, and Sam can tell what he’s thinking. “You like seeing me in wet denim, Sam?”

“Maybe another time,” he says, because yeah, he would, but now Dean’s given him another idea: how hot it would be to put the plug in and start the tap, and let Dean realise that as the water level rises he has nowhere to go, and where exactly is Sam going to let it get to?

He stores that one away, for now.

“We’re going to play another game, today,” he goes on; the container he took with him that morning, punched with air holes, is lying hidden under the bath.

Sam reaches for it, so slyly Dean doesn’t notice the movement.

He’s testing his bonds, and there’s a noticeable tent in his jeans that reminds Sam just how much Dean loves being helpless in his little brother’s hands.

He’s going to be very vocal in claiming the opposite soon, but it’s not like he’ll be able to do anything about it.

Just to make sure Dean has barely enough room to struggle, Sam traces his fingernails across his brother’s ribs, and chuckles as Dean tries to squirm away and gets barely half an inch.

“Fucker,” he complains, and glares, but under that Sam can see Dean’s so turned on right now.

“I brought some friends,” he says, just drops it right there in front of Dean, watches his brother look to the door, frowning because he can’t hear anybody, did Sam let somebody into the bunker? 

Dean doesn’t like strangers involved in their games, because he trusts Sam to know what to do with him, and when unknown people get involved, even though he also trusts Sam to make a good pick, it...changes...things.

That’s when Sam shows him the tub.

Dean huffs out a laugh, but it’s nervous.

“Yeah, very fucking funny. Get those out of here.”

Sam sighs. He could wait for Dean to get it - why he’s so tightly restrained in the bathtub, when Sam hasn’t even tried to turn on the water, or wash him, or do more than a test tickle to see how far he can move.

Why Dean’s torso is bare.

But he’s already impatient, dick nearly poking through his sweatpants, and...unlike Dean...he’s been carrying this anticipation around since the idea first came to him.

He’s been patient enough.

When Sam pops off the lid, Dean jerks away from him but gets about as far as before, though his effort this time is certainly more energetic.

“Sam. I’m not fucking kidding.”

“No? Me neither.”

He picks up the first of the big, fat slugs, and holds it gently in his hand, its eye stalks quivering as it takes in this new perspective.

But, and Sam isn’t cruel, they haven’t been in there too long, he thinks his little friends could use some exercise and Sam has the perfect terrain for it.

Dean holds his breath as Sam lowers the slug towards him, as if not believing Sam’s actually going to do it.

So when Sam drapes the slug across his right nipple, his reaction is to nearly choke on the air he’s been holding.

Sam quickly retrieves the slug, and lets Dean get his breathing back under control. He reaches down to rub Dean’s back, having to force his hand between Dean and the tub, and soothes him.

“It’s okay, it’s not going to hurt you, Dean.”

“Get it the fuck away from me,” Dean gasps.

Sam shakes his head. “They just want to be friends.”

“Sam, no, please.”

But Dean knows how this goes. His brother jerks and begs, but Sam puts Slug No 1 right back where he was, nudges him a little to curl around Dean’s nipple, and sits back to watch.

When you’re stretched out, tied up tight in a bathtub, with no give in the restraints, it’s impossible to move very much.

Dean’s trying, trying hard, Sam has to give him A-fucking-plus for effort. He’s jerking his whole body, trying to dislodge the slug, but the little guy likes where he’s at, and Sam grins when it nudges Dean’s nipple as if curious what this protuberance is.

“Sam, Sam, get it off-!”

He doesn’t know what the slug does then, but Dean’s body arcs upwards, or tries to, but the slug’s got staying power, and just rides out Dean’s fruitless struggles.

Time for some slug company. He finds Slug No 2 trying to make a valiant over the wall escape attempt, but Sam retrieves him in time, and tsks at the slimy residue on his fingers. 

He makes sure Dean sees it, so his brother knows that it’s going to be all over his skin soon.

And then he puts the second slug over Dean’s other nipple.

Dean screams at him. It’s not even words, just a cry of utter horror, disgust, panic.

Sam wipes his hand off on his sweatpants and reaches up to cups Dean’s face.

“Listen to me,” he says. “You know they aren’t going to hurt you. They’re just slugs. But you’d better get used to them, Dean.”

Dean’s shaking his head frantically, pulling so hard against the restraints Sam thinks he might actually do it, might actually break loose, but no. They hold, and Dean’s left panting against the cold enamel.

The slugs are slowly exploring his pecs with interest, and Dean groans as sure enough a trail of slime coats his nipples.

“You fucking prick,” he pants. 

Sam reaches down, and undoes the first couple of buttons on his brother’s jeans, opens the fly just enough to reveal Dean’s belly button.

“No, no, Sam, please.”

Sam shushes him. There’s a world of difference between letting the slugs crawl around on Dean’s chest, and abdomen, to letting them near his dick or ass.

He’s not an idiot; slugs are non-toxic, but they’re animals and they can go places they’re not supposed to and, while Sam might push Dean’s limits, severely, he knows what’s too much, too _unsafe_ and outwith his control.

Especially since, after he’s let Dean’s third new friend loose on him, he’s got some things to do.

He picks up the slug, and sets it down over Dean’s belly button.

It’s as curious as the others, head dipping in and Dean starts struggling again, with less energy now, because he’s tired and he must know that Sam’s not going to show him any mercy here.

Sam gets up and washes his hands, and stands and watches his brother for a few moments, watches Dean trying to think his way out of his predicament now that his panic’s settled, now that his head has cleared.

But Sam’s already run through every possible way.

Dean can’t even twist his body enough to throw the slugs off; even if they crawl away of their own accord, they might end up by his sides, crawling along his legs to his feet, or end up someplace he can’t see.

Somehow he thinks Dean will like that even less.

He starts for the door and Dean snarls after him.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Sam points to something he set up earlier, which Dean has clearly forgotten; understandable, since he’s under pressure.

Sam’s IPhone, braced safely on a shelf with an excellent view of Dean and his bathtub buddies.

It’s streaming to Sam’s laptop in the library, so Sam can not only watch Dean in his damsel-in-distress predicament, but record it for later, play it back while he’s fucking his brother into next week.

Dean will be safe, because the library’s sixty seconds down the corridor, and there’s something so delicious about his brother being ‘abandoned to his fate’ that Sam thinks he might just come then and there.

He doesn’t, though, and instead grins wickedly at Dean.

“I’ve leave the four of you to get acquainted,” he says, and then closes the door on Dean’s desperate protests.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Sam initiates some heavy fear play with Dean when he discovers Dean’s afraid of slugs, by tying Dean up and putting them on his upper body.
> 
> This is consensual non-consent. Dean never knows what Sam’s gong to do and that how he likes it. Yes, it’s risky, but Dean trusts Sam to push his limits but always keep him from actually getting hurt.
> 
> Although Sam does leave Dean alone in bondage (which is never a good idea) he has set up surveillance so he can keep an eye on his brother and make sure he is actually okay.
> 
> Yes, Sam is a sadist, and they both love it.


End file.
